


You're My Lover, Not My Rival

by shessocold



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, Bisexuality, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon Divergence, Casual Sex, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Fix-It, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Happy Sex, M/M, Prophecy, RS Fix It Fest 2020, Smoking, Threesome - F/M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25047928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessocold/pseuds/shessocold
Summary: Remus can't do relationships, or so he thinks.
Relationships: Hestia Jones/Remus Lupin, Hestia Jones/Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 26
Kudos: 99
Collections: RS Fix It Fest 2020





	You're My Lover, Not My Rival

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Arya and Gloom, as always.

“Mind, I can’t do relationships,” says Remus, his voice slightly funny on account of Hestia’s hand down the front of his trousers. “I really, really can’t.”

Hestia snorts with laughter. 

“Weird, I don’t remember asking,” she points out, her deft fingers wrapping around Remus’ erection. “Irresistible as you undoubtedly are, dear Lupin.” 

Remus grins. 

“Well, now I’m offended,” he jokes, leaning against the wall while Hestia begins stroking him in earnest. “You could at least pretend to be devastated!” 

*** 

“Is it the, ah, lycanthropy thing?” 

“What?” 

“The reason why you don’t want a relationship,” clarifies Hestia, blowing a perfect ring of smoke out of the window and into the night air. “Don’t make that face, my interest is purely academic. Did I guess right?” 

Remus takes a second to consider the question. 

“Well, it certainly doesn’t help,” he says, slowly. He likes Hestia, but she’s an _extremely_ practical person, and he’s not sure how well an honest answer would go down with her. He wonders if he should- 

Hestia, predictably, is not fooled by Remus’ reticent answer. 

“It doesn’t help, and...?” she says, with an encouraging flourish of her free hand. 

Remus grins. Her insistence, all things considered, is quite flattering. 

“If you must know,” he begins, with studious nonchalance, “it’s all down to a prophecy.” 

Hestia blinks once, twice, and then dissolves into uncontrollable hilarity. 

“Honestly, of all the things I expected you to come up with!” she says, wiping tears of mirth from her pink cheeks and trailing ash from her neglected cigarette onto the carpet. “A _prophecy_! Amazing.” 

Remus looks at her and doesn’t say anything. 

“Wait,” says Hestia, her grin fading. “You’re _not_ joking.” 

“Deadly serious,” confirms Remus, and he can tell by the look in her eyes that Hestia is looking for a quick way out of her tryst with what turned out to be a lunatic. The thought pains him. He’d hoped they could be friends. “I know it sounds improbable…” 

“Who would even _bother_ with a prophecy about your love life?” asks Hestia, not unfairly, stubbing the remainder of her cigarette out onto a nearby saucer. 

“Well, it wasn’t spontaneous or anything. I paid for it, actually.” 

“You _paid_ for it,” repeats Hestia, in a tone that perfectly conveys her amazement at Remus’ gullibility. “And when was this, pray tell?” 

“Well, ages ago,” says Remus, a bit on the defensive. “I was still in school.” 

“Why would you…” 

“Well, because of the lycanthropy thing, essentially.” 

“Right,” says Hestia, suddenly sympathetic. “I see why you would want that. And...” 

“And?” 

“Well, what was the prophecy?” 

Remus takes a deep breath and tells her. 

*** 

“Was that Hestia I heard leaving late last night?” asks Sirius, yawning over his morning tea. 

“Yeah,” confirms Remus, cautiously. It’s hard to guess which sort of mood Sirius will be in on any given day, especially now that it’s mostly just the two of them in this nightmare of a house. “Did we wake you up?” 

Sirius shakes his head. 

“Not at all,” he adds, helpfully, through a mouthful of toast. To Remus’ great relief, he seems rather cheerful. “I was up with Buckbeak anyway. So, any salacious details to share?” 

Remus, taken completely by surprise, bursts out laughing. 

“Sirius!” 

Sirius shrugs. 

“C’mon,” he says with a grin. “Be a good mate. I haven’t seen a naked witch in, uh, fifteen years. Give me something to work with, will you? Like we used to do when we were in school.” 

Remus flashes back to the evenings they used to spend in their dormitory, he and James and Peter, breathlessly listening to Sirius’ descriptions of his experimental _tête-à-têtes_ with Marlene McKinnon. 

“Good times,” he concedes, not without a vague stirring in his trousers. 

Sirius’ grin gets wider, his handsome face slightly flushed. 

“Go on, then,” he urges, leaning forward across the table. “Don’t be selfish.” 

*** 

“Sirius heard you leaving, the last time you were here,” says Remus, mostly to cover a lull in post-coital conversation. He’s never quite got used to the ‘lying around naked afterwards’ part. 

“Did he?” says Hestia. “I should work on my sneaking around skills.” 

“Yeah, he asked me if it was you or what.” 

“Did he mind?” 

“No, he just…” says Remus, thinking of Sirius’ eager inquisitiveness and trying to remain casual under Hestia’s shrewd gaze. “He was just curious, that’s all.” 

“Did _you_ mind, then?” 

“What?” 

“Well, I figured there had to be a reason for you to bring this up now,” says Hestia with a shrug. 

“No, I don’t, I… look, I’m nothing but chuffed,” says Remus, slightly flustered as he so often is by Hestia’s matter-of-factness. “I mean…” 

Hestia grins. 

“Chuffed, even,” she jokes, but Remus can tell that she's flattered, and the thought pleases him. 

“Yeah,” he says, watching Hestia’s pack of smokes zoom across the room and into her casually lifted hand. “Sirius was rather impressed, let me tell you.” 

“Was he, now,” repeats Hestia, slightly breathless, unlit cigarette hanging from her bottom lip. 

There’s not a trace of humour in her tone now, and Remus can’t say that he blames her. He knows from experience that there’s something intoxicating about Sirius giving you any sort of attention — it’s the way it’s always been, all the way back to when they were in school — and he can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel to be the subject of the type of interest they’re discussing now. Hell, _he_ is thrilled on Hestia’s behalf. 

“Yeah,” he confirms. “He made me tell him everything.” 

Hestia’s green eyes are very dark as she leans closer, cigarette completely forgotten. 

“Did he like what he heard?” she asks, her voice raspier than Remus has ever heard it. 

“He did,” he assures her, his cock perking up at the memory of Sirius listening avidly to his description of Hestia pinning him up against the wall to kiss him. “He was… he was quite into it.” 

“You must be an excellent story-teller, then,” says Hestia, now close enough for Remus to feel her warm breath on his damp cheek and smell her arousal. “Tell me, did you enjoy it? Telling your mate all about what we did?” 

“I did,” admits Remus, his heart pounding in his chest as Hestia straddles him. “Fuck me, I really did.” 

*** 

By the light of day, the whole threesome idea seems highly improbable. Hestia sounded like she was really into it, yes, but the things people say when they’re about to come… Remus is pretty sure that the only part of the outlined plan that she actually meant was the one where she got to sleep with Sirius, and the prospect of Remus’ continued involvement was just something she threw in out of politeness. 

Not that Hestia is too concerned with sparing other people’s feelings, generally, but it’s not unreasonable that this would be the sort of thing she makes an exception for. Still... 

“Good morning,” says Sirius, walking into the kitchen. “Fun night? You look like you’re only just recovering from a serious Stunning.” 

To his horror, Remus feels his cheeks begin to heat up. 

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Yeah, we were up quite late. Good times.” 

Sirius grins. 

“Care to share?” he inquires, grabbing a seat. 

Remus clears his throat. 

“We ended up talking about you,” he reveals, addressing his soft-boiled egg. “Quite… quite a lot, actually.” 

“You what?” 

Sirius sounds taken aback, which is not something that happens often. Remus represses a smile. 

“I told Hestia that you had asked about me and her,” he says, still aiming for a casual tone. “That you had wanted, uh, all the details. She was very flattered. Well, who wouldn’t.” 

Sirius barks a laugh. 

“ _Really_?” he asks, and through this display of incredulity Remus can see all the amused cockiness of teenaged Sirius, and it warms his heart like a nice glass of good Firewhisky. 

“Yeah, really,” he confirms, feeling quite bold and giddy all of a sudden. “She told me to ask you if you’d like to join us sometimes.” 

*** 

Whatever Sirius is doing with his hand up Hestia’s shirt — judging from the way she’s moaning — must be incredibly thrilling, thinks Remus. _I should ask him for pointers._

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” says Sirius, in a low, pleased voice. _Yeah_ , Remus almost confirms, before realizing that Sirius is, of course, talking to Hestia. He grins at the mistake. 

Yeah, he’s enjoying himself immensely, even if at the moment he hasn’t actually as much as got a kiss. 

The way Hestia and Sirius are grasping and fondling each other, the obvious chemistry between them, the soft sounds they’re making — the shots of Firewhisky they had before the whole thing started, too, if he’s being honest. Everything is conspiring to make the experience intoxicating. 

“Don’t just stand there,” says Hestia, beckoning Remus with her free hand. Her cheeks are flushed. 

“Yeah, Moony, come give me a hand,” jokes Sirius, turning his face away from Hestia’s neck to grin at Remus. Seeing them so close together, it suddenly strikes Remus just how similar they look — same pale complexion, same dark hair. Both beautiful. 

“Looks like you’re doing just fine on your own, honestly. Hestia?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, you idiot,” laughs Hestia, grabbing Remus by the front of his shirt. Remus obliges. 

*** 

_Oh,_ fuck _. Fuck fuck fuck._

It’s a good thing that Sirius could easily sleep through a parade, thinks Remus, because he’s rather sure the sheer intensity of the panic he’s currently experiencing would rouse most normal people. And if Sirius were to wake up _now_... 

_Well, I’d Stun him,_ decides Remus, scanning the floor for his underwear — his _underwear_ , for fuck’s sake. His underwear, that he didn’t bother putting back on after he was done shagging someone who’d just… 

Remus freezes, his mind suddenly flooded with more specific details of last night’s encounter. It’s wild to think of the sort of things that Hestia — lovely, devious Hestia — persuaded them to do. He thinks of Sirius’ winking at him with his face between Hestia’s legs, of the way she’d sucked Remus’ cock while riding Sirius, of the kiss she’d given them before rushing out on sudden Order duty, leaving them both exhausted and happy and possibly slightly delirious in Remus’ bed. 

“Morning,” yawns Sirius, startling Remus. 

“Morning,” he replies, cautiously. Sirius looks remarkably at his ease for someone who’s just recently shown his best mate exactly how he sounds and looks while he’s having an orgasm — then again, always looking remarkably at his ease is one of Sirius’ most notable traits. 

“I’d forgotten how hard on your muscles a good fuck really is,” notes Sirius, stretching his arms over his head. Judging by his tone, he could as well be discussing an impromptu Quidditch match. A shifting bed sheet reveals that he’s naked, too. “Breakfast?” 

“Sure,” agrees Remus, hoping he doesn’t sound as dazed as he’s feeling. 

*** 

“So, you and Hestia,” says Sirius, apropos of nothing, sliding a generous, unsolicited helping of scrambled eggs onto Remus’ plate. “You really know how to have a laugh, don’t you? Fingers crossed you’ll ask me to join in again,” he adds, in a daring attempt at nonchalance. 

“No need to ask for my permission,” explains Remus quickly, in the hope of sparing himself the worst of the unavoidable awkwardness. “You can just make plans with Hestia directly.” 

Sirius turns around and goes back to fiddling with the stove. 

“I thought it was brilliant that you were there too,” he says, his tone very controlled. “Besides, she’s your bird, it wouldn’t feel right.” 

Remus nearly chokes on his eggs. 

“She’s not my bird,” he says, stupidly, his mind completely on fire with the idea that Sirius thought his presence _brilliant_. “We don’t… it’s not really…” 

“You don’t?” repeats Sirius, turning back around. He sounds surprised. “I thought you…” 

“Just a casual thing,” clarifies Remus, overcome with a sudden desire to make Sirius see things as they are. “Not that I think Hestia would have me, mind you, but I don’t want a real relationship anyway. It wouldn’t be fair on the other person.” 

Sirius nods slowly. From the way he’s fidgeting with his wand, Remus knows that he craves a smoke, but he’s being considerate enough not to light one while they’re eating. He’s also decently sure that the Sirius from fifteen years before wouldn’t have thought twice about it. 

“I don’t mind it,” he says, feeling gracious. “Go on.” 

“Uh?” 

“Smoke if you want to.” 

Sirius’ face splits into a grin. 

“It’s impossible to keep anything from you, eh Moony?” he says, fishing a slightly bent cigarette out of his pocket. “You know me too well, always have.” 

*** 

They end up getting quite drunk that evening too, which — Remus thinks — is fair enough, given the circumstances. At first, he sort of vaguely hopes that Hestia will show up at some point, but by the time midnight rolls around he’s feeling both very relaxed and very glad that he’s all alone with Sirius. His friend. His _lovely_ friend. Possibly his favourite person in the whole world. 

“We’re all out of Firewhisky,” laments Sirius, his legs on the drawing room sofa, the rest of him on the carpet, an undeniably empty bottle held in his fist. “‘s a bloody shame.” 

“I love you, mate,” says Remus, because it’s true, and he feels it should be spoken aloud, at least once in their lives. “I just… I think you’re brilliant, that’s all,” he adds, tickled to be echoing Sirius’ pronouncement from the previous morning. 

Sirius, still upside down, beams. 

“I love you too,” he assures Remus. “I really do. Always have.” 

Remus grins. He still has some Firewhisky in his cup, and he swishes it around as he tries to decide if he should go ahead and tell Sirius about the prophecy, or if he should spare himself the embarrassment. 

“I’m especially lucky to have such a good friend,” he begins, and he finishes the contents of his cup in one gulp to steady himself. “Remember that time we went to Aberdeen for Easter break?” 

“Yeah,” says Sirius, his brow slightly furrowed. “Sixth year, was it?” 

“Fifth,” says Remus. “Well, there was that one night you and James got so stoned you couldn’t have left the hostel had it caught fire.” 

“Good times,” remarks Sirius fondly. 

“I went out on my own, because I was starving and there was this chippy that had caught my eye on our way from the station.” 

“Did you manage to find it?” 

Remus grins, endeared by Sirius’ tone of sincere concern. 

“I did, but that’s not the point of my story. Next door to the chippy was a strange shop, tiny, sort of dingy — I remember checking my watch and thinking how weird it was that it was still open at half past eleven — well, don’t laugh, but there was a sign in the shop window saying that they could tell your fortune for ten Muggle pounds. I don’t know what came over me, but I went in. Chips and all.” 

Despite Remus’ admonition, Sirius lets out a snort of laughter. 

“Did you get grease all over their crystal ball?” 

Remus laughs too. 

“There was no crystal ball,” he replies, in tones of injured virtue. “Not that I would have touched anything with my chip hand.” 

“As if I haven’t seen the way you eat,” says Sirius, amused. “‘Haphazardly’ is the word that comes to mind.” 

“Will you shut up, for once?” says Remus, very affectionately. “I’m trying to finish my story.” 

“Sorry, sorry. You went inside a weird shop, no crystal balls to be found, one greasy set of fingers and one greasy set of fingers only. What happened next?” 

“The owner was this minuscule old woman,” says Remus, marvelling at how infinitely less haunting his story sounds when punctuated by Sirius’ jokes. There aren’t many people he’s told all of this before, but they’d all waited quietly, some not without a clear undercurrent of uneasiness, for his tale to be over. Even blunt Hestia had had nothing to say. “At first I thought she was blind, I suppose, her eyes were all cloudy, but I don’t think she actually was. I don’t think she was a witch, either… I mean, I don’t think she _knew_ she was a witch. A trained witch would have more sense than to set up shop in the middle of a Muggle city like that, you’d think.” 

“Yeah,” agrees Sirius, but this time he doesn’t add any jokey commentary. 

“Anyways, she didn’t even greet me. She just motioned for me to bend forward — it was ridiculous, but I felt compelled — and then she came up to me, touched her lips to my forehead, took a step back, and told me that I could never have a proper relationship.” 

Sirius’ head jerks up. 

“Wait, in so many words? What kind of shoddy fortune-telling was that?” 

“Not in so many words, no. She actually — well, this is the reason why I’m telling you this whole story now. She said, and I’m quoting, because believe me, this is the sort of thing that sticks with you, that my love was going to be lethal to all but my true friends. And the way she said it, I believed her completely. So that is why I will never have a real relationship, and why I’m so lucky that I have you, mate, to love all I please without running the risk, you know, of killing you.” 

Sirius remains silent for a bit. 

“It was probably bullshit,” he says eventually, but his reassurance sounds perfunctory. He believes the prophecy, just as Remus does, just as everyone else who’s heard the story did. The only difference, Remus realizes with a jolt of excitement, is that Sirius also sounds vaguely _pleased_ about the whole thing. 

*** 

This time, the second in as many days that he wakes up in bed next to Sirius, Remus has the small consolation of at least being fully clothed. 

“Morning,” says Sirius, also decently attired, and he yawns hugely. “My head is _killing_ me.” 

“Morning,” mumbles Remus. His recollection of the previous night is painted with an unnervingly broad brush — he seems to remember a few soppy declarations of undying friendship, and very little else. 

“Cup of tea?” proposes Sirius, far more chipper than Remus has ever seen him in the morning. “Mind, it’s closer to lunchtime, but I reckon we could use one all the same.” 

“Sure,” agrees Remus, squinting against a painful ray of sunshine that’s filtering through the curtains. “Give me a second, I’ll go and put the kettle on.” 

“You stay right here, I’ll do it,” says Sirius, in a pleasant tone, and then to Remus’ enormous shock he leans over and plants a kiss right on Remus’ lips. 

*** 

“Of course I wanted it! Are you insane? I’ve never been more thrilled.” 

“You jumped about a foot,” points out Sirius, touching the tip of his wand to his post-coital cigarette. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the humiliation.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” says Remus, grinning at Sirius’ deadpan delivery. “As if you’d reacted differently, in my shoes.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re quite dim, frankly,” says Sirius, looking at Remus with so much affection that Remus finds it impossible not to reach out and grab his free hand. “I was sure we were on the same page,” he adds, beaming down at their interlocking fingers. “But clearly I’d overestimated your deduction skills.” 

“Excuse me for being surprised that my best mate of twenty-odd years had suddenly decided that our relationship was turning physical.” 

Sirius’ eyes widen in indignation while he’s mid-inhale. 

“ _’Turning’_ ,” he repeats, smoke billowing around his handsome face. “After the hours we spent in bed with Hestia the other night!” 

Remus laughs. 

“Fair enough,” he says, giving Sirius’ hand a squeeze. “I just never thought that you’d be interested in me _like that_ when I’m alone. Again, not that I’m complaining.” 

“‘Interested’ is the understatement of the century,” laughs Sirius. “I meant what I said last night, you know. I love you.” 

“Well, same,” says Remus, his cheek muscles sore with all the triumphant grinning he’s done in the last few hours. “I really do.” 

“I’m truly glad your prophecy specifically doesn’t apply to me. Certain death sounds rather annoying — although, to be fair, in the long run I suppose everyone’s death is…” 

Sirius trails off, clearly distracted by the shocked look that has reappeared on Remus’ face. 

“What now?” he asks, with a tinge of actual concern in his pretend annoyance. 

“Why wouldn’t it… I mean, it’s true that I love you as a friend, but I also — well, evidently — oh, fuck. _Fuck_. Sirius, I...” 

“What did the woman say?” interrupts Sirius, rather sternly. “Tell me the exact wording she used.” 

“ _’Your love will be lethal to all but your true friends’_ ,” quotes Remus, his mouth dry. 

To his astonishment, Sirius grins. 

“It’s settled, then, isn’t it? Unless you’ve been lying to me since our first year at Hogwarts, that is.” 

“What?” 

“We’re best mates, aren’t we? That should cover the ‘true friend’ requirement. And at that point...” 

A few more seconds of confusion, and then Remus finally sees Sirius’ point. 

“I’m not sure how much of a compliment this is, but you would have made for an excellent lawyer,” he says, and Sirius laughs. 

*** 

They’re finally getting around to making themselves something to eat — after, mercifully, taking the time to put some trousers back on — when Harry’s panicked head pops into the kitchen’s fireplace. 

“Harry!” says Sirius, thrilled. “Hi!” 

“Sirius! You’re there!” 

“Is everything OK?” says Remus, eyeing the sudden look of overwhelming relief on Harry’s face. “How was your History of Magic exam?” 

“Fine,” says Harry unconvincingly, and then, to Sirius. “You’re all right! That’s brilliant.” 

“Why wouldn’t I…” begins Sirius, but he’s interrupted by a thud on Harry’s end. 

“Nothing, just a dream I had, that you were… but yeah, I should probably go now,” says Harry, grinning broadly. “Good to see you both.” 

“Should we… try and find out what that was all about?” asks Sirius, once Harry’s head has disappeared from the fireplace. “It pains me to say it, but I sort of feel that we probably should.” 

“Nah,” says Remus, grinning down at the potatoes he’s setting to peel themselves. “Whatever it was, I’m sure it’s all right now.”


End file.
